Marcus didn’t think he’d ever have the courage to propose to his wife that they try what he wanted; there wasn’t any conceivable way that he could think of to bring up the subject. “Hello, dear, what’s for dinner? And would you mind bending me over the table before we set it?” No, not on. He needed to find another way to bring it out in the open. Yes, he knew that marriages are supposed to be about sharing and being open and whatnot, but everyone has their own little secrets that they keep to themselves, didn’t they? The trouble with Marcus was that he knew that if he kept this to himself, he wouldn’t ever experience it. Not without going behind Susanne’s back and he wasn’t prepared to do that.
If she was willing to join in then that was ideal but if she couldn’t cope with the idea then he would have no other choice but to leave it. The thought that it was something that would never come to fruition was something that ate away at him inside. It wasn’t illegal, it wasn’t immoral; it was probably a bit odd but he didn’t care about that anymore. He had had years of self argument at thinking that it was something any self respecting bloke shouldn’t want to do but it made no difference whatsoever, he still wanted it, still craved it. Needed it - if only to alleviate the curiosity that was threatening to kill him, never mind the cat. Unfortunately, it wasn’t one of those nice little fantasies that you could be content with taking out and polishing and dreaming over when you had a spare moment. Well, to an extent it was, but he had polished it and dreamt of it for so long now that the only possible conclusion was to try and turn it into reality. Just to know.
Finally he’d hit upon the idea of asking his wife if there was anything that she had a hankering to try out, anything that rocked her boat that she hadn’t mentioned to him, giving the impression that he was open to suggestions and hoping against hope that if she did, it was something that he could handle and that it would give him the opportunity to tell her of his desires. That was the easy part. Thinking up the solution wasn’t all that hard to do in the end – in fact, once he had done so, it had seemed so obvious to him that he wondered why it had taken him so long to do so. No, the hard part was actually doing it. Knowing what you wanted to say and actually having the courage to say it were worlds apart. What if she thought him sick? What if she looked at him as though she no longer knew who he was?
He hadn’t given much thought to what she might possibly tell him as a secret fantasy – if she had one – but if she did, he was sure that it wouldn’t be, that it couldn’t be, as bad or self incriminating as he felt his was. Was that normal? To be more understanding and compassionate with others than one was with oneself? Or was it a case of one always thinking that your own thoughts and needs, whether they be positive or negative, are always more significant, have more meaning, than those of someone else, even if that someone else was your wife? Was he guilty of double standards? Allowing his wife her ‘faults’ but not giving the same deal to himself? If that was so, it wasn’t the normal way double standards were perceived but it was how they transpired in Marcus.
So many times Marcus has arrived at his own front door, squared his shoulders and told himself ‘Tonight’s the night’ - only it never was. The same way that ‘tomorrow never comes’, neither did ‘Tonight’. Perhaps once or twice he had got as far as opening his mouth to start the speech he had mentally mapped out, but it had then seemed so contrived and false that he couldn’t go through with it. It was only later in the evening, on each occasion that he had failed to speak, that he admitted to himself that it was a lack of nerve that had stopped him and he scolded himself for his cowardice.
Eventually, as so often occurs with many things, it happened without planning or a great deal of forethought. An evening out for a meal when both he and Susanne had had a glass or two more wine than they were used to and which served to loosen their inhibitions as well as their tongues. They were both silly and giggly on the way home in the taxi, made all the more so by the cab driver shaking his head and muttering something about ‘think they’re bloody teenagers’ at their antics in the back of the cab. His comment only made them collapse with amusement and gave them stitch from laughing as they tried, not very successfully, to contain themselves in front of his disapproval.
On arriving home they had run upstairs breathless with laughter and on a natural high from a mix of cheap wine, love and sheer silliness. There had been some joke when crossing the road about Marcus needing to carry Susanne across the puddles so as not to ruin her new shoes and her stating that she couldn’t take them off because she had delicate feet which shouldn’t have to put up with rough pavements. Totally daft and not in the least bit funny really, unless of course you were there and taking part – and influenced by large amounts drink.
Marcus had complied and carried Susanne across the road by lifting her over his shoulder and trotting her through the overgrown bushes at the front of the house while she shrieked at him for ruining her hair style. Once upstairs he had dived for her feet and demanded to look at these ‘delicate feet’ and on stating that they were indeed delicate and needed to be toughened up, made as if to chew on her big toe. She’d shrieked even louder and tried to claw her way back up the bed to get away from his exaggerated chomping actions as he grabbed her left foot.
She’d cried with tears of laughter and begged him not to do it, saying that he could do anything to her that he wanted, but please, not to touch her feet in that way. Giving up, he’d thrown himself down lengthways beside her on the bed and asked “So then … what would you like me to do to you instead? What fantasies are you keeping from me?”
And that’s how it happened. She went bright red and Marcus realised that ‘Tonight’ had finally arrived.
After a bit of prompting and lots of ‘please, tell me’s’, accompanied by petting and caresses and reassurances that he would still love her, whatever it was, Susanne blushed and stuttered her way through a confession – and that had been a surprise and no mistake – and then, thankfully, in an effort to take the focus off of herself, she had asked Marcus about any fantasy of his own. This had caused even more blushing and a higher degree of stuttering which left them both open mouthed; Marcus in fear of her rejection and Susanne in astonishment. All thoughts of feet, delicate or not, were immediately forgotten.
They’d talked about it for weeks on end. Marcus did some proper research as opposed to the normal furtive cruising on the Net that he had been doing for the last few months. He found some sites for Susanne to look at, crossing his fingers that she wouldn’t be put off by some of the heavier aspects of them. Some of the things were off putting to himself if he was honest with himself but he’d trained himself in the past to skirt round those and simply not see them. He wasn’t sure Susanne would be able to do the same so he showed her the mildest thing he could find.
It had taken her a long time to come to terms with even the idea and hesitantly agree to try it out. He’d worried that she felt herself obliged to do so seeing as he had agreed to try out her fantasy – something he found himself quite liking anyway – but he wouldn’t have held that up as a ransom card against her. He’d asked in good faith and wouldn’t turn round now and say ‘If we can’t do mine, we aren’t doing yours’.
So, they’d tried. And it was a disaster.
She had got so far as to sit on the sofa and have him drop himself over her lap after fumbling ineffectively with his trousers for far too long and eventually yanking them down in frustration and breaking the zip into the bargain.
Susanne was so tense she could hardly breathe. She’d placed her left hand across his back and lifted her right hand, determined to bring it down sharply across the middle of his pale cheeks. He lay there waiting for ages until it became apparent that the spank wasn’t coming. He twisted round on her lap and saw her stricken face.
“I’m sorry. I can’t,” she pleaded for his understanding. “I feel ridiculous.”
He’d scrambled clumsily off her lap and without a word, left the room hurriedly to change into something else. He threw the trousers away rather than put them to one side to have the zip mended. They would always remind him of this spectacular failure and he preferred not to see them ever again.
When he eventually re-entered the room, Susanne was still sitting in the middle of the sofa and was crying gently. Any resentment or bitterness that he might have felt trickled away and that was when he’d told her that it was all forgotten.
She’d apologised again and again until he’d had to take her in his arms to comfort her and whisper that it didn’t matter. That they’d tried and it hadn’t worked, so that was the end of it. Only it wasn’t the end of it. He’d come so close. Years of secret fantasy and to have it snatched away just when it was in sight was a bigger torment than having never got near in the first place. And to have it fail this way was worse than her having refused to try it in the first place. He felt the bile churn in his stomach and thought he might actually be sick. It was so unjust!
She knew he was disappointed but she didn’t know what to do about it. It got to the point when she could tell when he was thinking about it. With his head turned towards the TV as though he was watching, she became aware every single time that he escaped back to his fantasy. She didn’t resent him it but she couldn’t bring herself to do what he’d asked.
To her it just seemed wrong to try and fit her tall and muscular husband over her lap to smack his backside. He wasn’t a child and although she wasn’t capable of physically holding him down anyway, the position they’d chosen to try had made her feel so absurd that she couldn’t carry it through. There was a wrongness about it that was so strong that even the thought of it made her feel ill. They had looked, each one blushing for different reasons, at some of the many pictures offered on the Net and eventually Marcus had suggested over the knee saying it seemed to be a good way to dip their toes in the water. To her at the time it had seemed the most ludicrous position but she assumed that he had chosen that one as it was the one that appealed to him the most.
Things came to a head once again many weeks later when they were watching a film together at home. A rather feeble comedy but there was nothing else on that was better. It contained a scene of a ‘professional’ Dominatrix ineffectually ‘whipping’ a man who was over-acting his ecstasy to the ‘nth’ degree and writhing about in unconvincing bliss. It wasn’t the main point of the story, they hadn’t known that the film contained the scene so it took them by surprise when it unfolded and neither of them were capable of moving to change the channel for fear that doing so would show that it held importance. Susanne shot a look at Marcus from the corner of her eye and even though the scene was comic, badly done and not representative of what she understood he wanted, she saw that he was mesmerised. As the scene momentarily changed to something else, Marcus became aware that Susanne was watching him and turned to look at her. She was shocked by the level of yearning in his eyes that he wasn’t quick enough to conceal even though it was soon enough replaced with shame as he realised that she knew.
He’d dropped his head in humiliation at what he thought he saw in her face… affront at him going back on his word and continuing with his fantasy.
“I just want to experience it,” he confessed disconsolately by way of apology. “Even if it’s only once.”
His head remained bowed as Susanne’s eyes flicked to the TV now showing the whipping scene once again.
“Once?” she queried in earnest. “Would you settle for that?”
He shrugged his shoulders and ventured with an air of hopelessness. “I could live off the memories.” Marcus turned his head even further away from Susanne so that she couldn’t witness his shame. “I’m sure I could,” he whispered more to himself than to her. He looked a picture of such defeat that she couldn’t bear to deny him his chance at knowing.
“Maybe we could find a way…” she pondered meditatively.
It was a testimony to the depth of his desire to fulfil his fantasy that he heard out the whole proposal without screaming.
“Would you ever go to one of those places… the ones that are advertised on the sites? I wouldn’t know if you did…,” she’d asked bravely whilst trying to hold down the lump that was forming in her throat. She wanted him to have what he wanted but this option was one she thought she couldn’t bear to have him consider.
“No! I wouldn’t do that.” Marcus shot across the room, knelt at her feet and grasped her shaking hands in his that were no steadier. “I love you, Susanne and I won’t go behind your back; I promise you. If we can’t do this, then we can’t and I’ll have to put up with it. Anyway, I wanted it to be with you, so having another woman do it just wouldn’t seem right.
Susanne let out the breathe she wasn’t aware that she had been holding and contemplated the other option she had thought of. Had she the nerve to suggest it to him? Whether it was by design or not that she had mentioned the possibility of being with someone else – and he had obviously thought of another woman - in the hope that he would reject it, she didn’t know.
She was aware that there was a slight element of conniving to her method. Suggesting to him something that she was almost certain he wouldn’t or couldn’t find acceptable to make him more open to what came next. Was this manipulation? Had she built his hopes up by saying maybe there was a way, only to then dash them by suggesting he be deceitful so that he would then look more favourably on her real proposal if he saw it as his only chance?
She’d taken a huge gamble that he would discard the idea of another woman outright. She’d put her trust in his love for her over his own personal needs and a sensation of relief run through her like a cascade, not of cold water but a warm flush of love, that she’d been right. He was loyal to her beyond what many people were capable of, if what she had read on the spanking sites were to be believed. There were some who thought that having the desire meant that it was above and beyond the importance of their partner and his or her feelings. That they had the right to fulfil their dreams no matter what the cost or who it affected. Thank heavens that Marcus wasn’t that selfish. This realisation brought with it its own dilemma though – he’d earned some sort of prize for that show of loyalty, hadn’t he? The recollection of feeling utterly foolish as he had lain compliant and nervous across her lap was still too strong for her to battle with and overcome and if that wasn’t possible, then it was her problem, not his. That feeling of guilt made her feel that it was her responsibility to look for an alternative. She only hoped that she wasn’t asking the impossible of him – fulfil his desire but on her terms only.
She took a deep breath and gently released into the atmosphere the compromise.
“What about a man?”
“What? What do you mean?”
“Well, if some men like to be s-spanked by women, then it stands to reason that there would be men who either like spanking men or at least wouldn’t object to doing it.”
Marcus stared at her with his mouth open in utter confusion. One half of him battled with the idea of exposing himself, physically and psychologically, to a man in that way, while strangely, another part of him, no matter how much he tried to control it, was bubbling over with excitement at the door that was very slowly opening before him. In a fraction of a second he acknowledged two almost simultaneous thoughts: the idea of being smacked by a man was more than just a bit weird but that it wasn’t weird enough to put him off the idea altogether.
“Well, what do you think?” asked Susanne after several minutes. Her voice had a slight tremor in it as she waited to hear if Marcus could possibly accept her idea or not.
“I don’t know,” stammered Marcus honestly. “It seems a bit odd, but … I don’t know.”
Susanne didn’t move from her position on the sofa – this was too big an occasion to change the subject and leave things unsaid or without end.
“Um … a man? What made you think of that?”
“I’m not sure. Some of the photos on that site you showed me had a school scene in it and there was a headmistress and a girl student in one of them. To me it looked strange but it made me realise that all sort of people do this and if women do it with women, then maybe men do it with men as well.
“Yes, I suppose so. I hadn’t thought of that. I’d have to think about it a bit. It’s not something that I can decide right now, you understand?”
“Okay, that’s understandable I suppose. It’s just that … Marcus? I hate, absolutely hate the idea of another woman touching you in that way and I’m sorry that I can’t do it for you. I’d like to be able to, I really would. I want to do it for you, but it’s beyond me. I felt so bloody foolish when we tried it, I really did, and I know I made you feel foolish as well – I’m sorry for that. I want you to get what you want – I know that this isn’t really it, but it’s the nearest I can cope with. I’m sorry.” Susanne’s tears were making slow tracks down her face as she poured out her despair to him.
Marcus moved to sit on the sofa and gently put his arms round her shaking shoulders, smoothing her hair in a comforting motion. “I know. I know you are. Let me think about it for a while, eh?” he mumbled forlornly whilst looking over her head at the scene that was coming to a poor climax on the TV.
It took him a day or two to consider his options. A man or nothing. Could he do it? It wasn’t what he wanted: he wanted to be spanked by his wife, by the person he loved and who loved him. He wanted it to be something the two of them shared together just as much as he wanted to know what a spanked bottom felt like. Would it be the same with a stranger? How could it be? Where would the feeling of togetherness be? What would it be like having a man touching his arse? Would he be expected to go over his knee? He was on the threshold of experiencing what he’d always wanted – if he had the courage to say yes. The idea of a man spanking him wasn’t a turn on at all but the idea of being spanked was. His emotional needs fought against his physical needs. A man or nothing!
“Okay. A man it is then.”
Susanne looked up from the shirt she was ironing one Saturday morning at the blunt statement Marcus made on entering the utility room at the back of their house. His hair was damp and curling slightly behind his ears and there was a brightness to his face that either was to do with the shower he had just taken or the words he had just uttered.
Silence reigned temporarily in the small room hot from the heat of the iron and the atmosphere suddenly introduced.
“Oh. Right. Okay then,” replied Susanne not quite looking him in the eye. “Well, we had better make a start on looking for someone then.”
“Er … how?”
“Internet?” suggested Susanne. “One of those sites might have some ideas.”
“Ah. Yes. Good idea. Um … shall I …? Is the computer OK now?”
“Yes, it’s fine. I was talking to Mrs Preston from 2 doors down last week and mentioned it so she sent her boy in to have a look at it. You know everyone under the age of 18 knows all there is to know about computers and he’s fixed it for us in the past. He had a fiddle with it and its fine now. Something to do with the hard disk needing to be defragmented, which basically means tidying up as far as I can tell, that’s why it was so slow all the time.” Susanne was aware she was babbling for the sake of it, looking for some sort of normality in the situation to bring it back under control.
“Right. I’ll go have a look then.” Marcus turned to leave but hesitated at the door. “Susanne, you don’t think he would have looked at any of the links on the computer, do you? Were you with him when he was working on it?”
“Oh, I’m sure he didn’t. I was there all of the time because he was asking me which programmes did I want him to put into the un-used icon folder or something and I had to point them out to him and then he showed me how to fix the problem with the hard disk if it should happen again. He was only on it for about 10 minutes because all he had to do was set it to run and then leave it. Anyway, we cleared the history out after we looked at those sites, didn’t we?”
“Yes. Yes, we did,” said Marcus slowly.
It took them a long time to find what they were looking for and then it was only by chance. Some of the sites, and especially what appeared to be one of the more well known UK sites, had a plethora of links to spanking blogs and companies that sold a multitude of implements. There were also service links to clubs and parties that people could attend. Some of the services were professional but few of them were remotely near enough to be of use to Marcus and Susanne and the ones that were had codes of dress that they weren’t interested in. Marcus had no desire to dress as a schoolboy and wear short trousers and even if he did, there weren’t any men who attended the parties that would have been willing to deal with him.
There was a long weekend trip available to Whitby of all places where a row of hill top cottages was available for hire to groups and was a regular event but it seemed that people went with their spanking partners, not with the idea to find one there. Anyway, a whole weekend away in the depths of North Yorkshire wasn’t possible. The drive was too long for them and it would mean asking Mrs Preston to come in for two, maybe three days to feed their cat, Sox. She’d done it occasionally in the past when they had gone away overnight and didn’t seem to mind at all, but they didn’t want to take advantage of her kindness too much. If they had to travel a distance to find a place to go to, then it needed to be close enough to permit just the one night away. The idea of going away was in itself appealing, as it lessened the risk of meeting someone they knew – which would be just as embarrassing for that other person as it would be for them but that hadn’t occurred to them just yet.
Finally a comment on one of the blogs about a club that was very friendly and particularly so to newcomers to the scene made them sit up and pay attention. There was a name for the club, Noctua, and a contact number which they flipped a coin to see who had the honours of phoning. Marcus lost and steeled himself for the experience with a glass of wine beforehand. After a stumbling conversation with the club owner, who didn’t seem at all fazed about their jumbled request, he was asked if someone could phone him later on to talk further about it, to which Marcus agreed rapidly, gave his number and practically threw the phone back on its cradle. Things had been set in motion though and that thought for Marcus was both terrifying and exciting. Two hours later the phone rang.
A very pleasant sounding lady asked if this were the home of the people who had phoned enquiring about attending an adult only club. Her voice was gentle but firm as she grilled them almost professionally about who they were and what they were expecting. She didn’t ask for surnames or addresses and instead of asking their Christian names she asked what they would like her to call them, but her questions gave Marcus the impression that she was no fool and utmost in her mind at this stage was finding out if they were genuine.
There followed a series of surreal conversations on what it was he wanted. She asked why specifically he wanted a man: was he bi-sexual? Marcus could only answer that it was a stipulation of his wife’s that he didn’t play with a woman. She asked what sort of play he was after, had he any idea of which implement that he wanted used or was he looking for a hand spanking. He decided that if he could choose then he’d prefer for it not to be by hand and would rather an implement… and suggested a cane as the first thing to come to mind. She explained to him that they didn’t normally arrange spanking partners for club visitors but that it had been done in the past if there were able to hook people up together. There wasn’t a fee involved for arranging the spanking, but they would be expected to become temporary members of the club for the night, which did involve payment, but if they wanted to extend the membership to a full annual one, then the amount paid would be transferred. She pointed out to him that men who were willing to spank other men weren’t that common amongst the heterosexual nights they ran, but that if he was willing to come to a mixed het/gay night, then it was possible and would that be a problem for him? Did he think that he could accept a spanking from a gay man providing she could find someone? At this stage Marcus would have been willing to go to a completely gay night and take his chances.
She said she would get back to them.
“Who was that on the phone?”
“Eh? Oh, it was Adela. From the club. She said she’s found someone and if we’re still willing, it’s all set for Friday week. She wants us to phone her in the next day or so to let her know for sure.”
Marcus looked at his wife with concern and not a small amount of fear. Fear that she would say no and fear that she would say yes.
She took a deep breath and said ‘yes’.
As they had driven to the hotel they had found nearby to book in prior to moving on to the venue address they had been given, Susanne reflected on her feelings of how they had arrived at this stage. The distance from their home was long enough to give her time to think things over and wonder if they had made the right decision. Now wasn’t really the ideal time to cancel; they’d had weeks when they could have done that, from the first day they had made tentative contact with Adela through the club and talked things through over many phone calls to the day when they confirmed that they were going ahead with it. Marcus was seemingly concentrating on his driving but she knew that he was anxious. Anxious to get on and do it, anxious about what it would actually entail, anxious about what the man that Adela had found for them would be like, and most of all, anxious that he wouldn’t like it after all.
She herself was as nervous as hell and some inner part of her screamed to turn back now, before it was too late, to escape while they could and go home and pretend that none of this had ever been thought of. She knew that could never happen because even if they did use the next slip road to change directions on the motorway and never spoke of this again, it was there. It always would be there, in the open, known about, denied recognition but nonetheless, constantly present in their marriage.
Illogically she was feeling jealous yet protective towards Marcus knowing that he was going to be committing what was after all, a fairly intimate act with another man, even though the idea had been hers. She disliked it intensely but repeated to herself like a mantra that a man was better than a woman and that if Marcus could cope with it, so could she. She would take her stance from him. If he showed hesitation, she would follow his lead and support his decision as to what happened tonight and right at this very moment, she had no idea of what would bring her the most relief. She wanted it to be her who he turned to, who could take care of his needs, give him want he seemed to want most in the world but it was impossible; she couldn’t do it – the aborted spanking session had proven that.
The bile rose up in her throat at the thought that Marcus might have refused the man and decided after all for a woman. Yes, there were professional women available to do such things and Susanne assumed that for them it was not a personal relationship that they undertook with their clients. But deep down inside her, she couldn’t escape from the seed of the idea that refused to not take root no matter how many times she rationalised it, that acting so with another woman would be bordering on unfaithfulness. No matter that it would be Marcus on the receiving end and he wouldn’t have had reason or cause to touch the woman in any way, it would have been a betrayal. He would have been allowing a potential threat to their relationship have access to his most intimate desires and allow her to fulfil those desires and who knew where that sort of thing ended up. The most determined person could inadvertently find themselves swept along on a wave of emotions that took control and altered the course of the life they thought they had mapped out. Apart from which, he was hers! No-one had the right to invade their intimacy - if they did so, then their presence would always be felt, like a third person in their marriage; a silent invisible witness to how they had failed in some way.
As the miles faded away Susanne was, slowly and inexorably, and without being the least bit aware of it, coming to a resolution that would have a great impact on her marriage.
Adela had been kind enough to meet them at the door early, take care of the paperwork for their temporary membership, sign them in and then show them round the club before it filled up. She had explained how the club had a small room to one side of the bar where the owners had set up a small selection of implements for sale for those who wanted to try something different or had come with nothing. She said that she thought it wasn’t worth their buying a cane unless they particularly wanted to but if they weren’t at all sure if it would be something they repeated, perhaps they would be happy enough to use the one that she had brought along after explaining that it was sanitised and perfectly safe. She introduced them to one or two people that made their way into the club, not to everyone; she was picking out with care who she wanted them to speak to, that was clear.
When the club was eventually half filled and they were all safely ensconced at what was obviously Adela’s place at the bar, she pointed out a couple across the room as the people they would be meeting presently. Susanne studied them as casually as she could manage without trying to think of what one of them would be doing to her husband later on. At one point she saw the younger of the two laugh out loud at something the other had said and was inclined to bristle at the thought that they were laughing at her and Marcus. Or that her husband was being ridiculed somehow, that maybe they thought less of him for wanting to be caned instead of being the one who would do the caning. Adela must have sensed something because she gently laid her hand on Susanne’s forearm, smiled encouragingly at her and said, “He’s a good man, he doesn’t judge. Don’t worry.”
Presently she beckoned them over and the night truly began.
After the caning, it was an odd mix of people that left the room. There had been a break between the end of those wicked sounds and the noises common to the sound of someone getting dressed – in this case, gingerly pulling underwear and trousers back into place. Adela had moved forward into the room after the sound of the caning had ended and those awful ‘thwiping’ sounds had been replaced by the murmur of low voices.
A few minutes passed as Marcus collected himself and Adela made sure he was composed enough to leave the room and join his wife.
Marcus was the first one out, followed by Patrick and then Adela who held the returned cane in one hand and turned the light off with the other.
There was an edge to the group but Susanne was quick to realise that it was coming from herself and Jerome, not the people who had been inside the room. Marcus came immediately to her and Patrick slid an arm round Jerome’s waist and pulled him close, reassuring him with his presence that he had his man back. Susanne noticed that Jerome was fairly clingy with Patrick and hardly let go of his hand the rest of the evening, not even to allow Patrick to drink his beer in peace.
Once the hugs were over, they were ushered back to the main room by Adela who conducted the whole affair as though she were a schoolteacher on an outing with children she didn’t quite trust not to disappear if she took her eyes off them for a moment. Sean had reappeared at her feet the moment that she took her place at the bar and one hand went automatically to pet his hair without conscious thought.
Susanne couldn’t help but notice how Marcus was on a high of emotion. He was practically bouncing on the balls of his feet and pleasure shone from his every pore. There was sometimes a wry apologetic smile thrown her way as if to say ‘Sorry, I can’t help it’, but other than that he was thriving on the experience. There was a look on his face as he took note of what else was happening in the room that proclaimed ‘I’m part of this now. I’m one of them! I did it!’
Patrick had a quiet air of satisfaction hanging over him, not, she thought, because he felt better than Marcus in some way or considered himself superior, it was more to do with being pleased that he had performed well and given Marcus what he wanted and that he had, obviously, enjoyed it. Jerome was quietly glowing with smugness at Patrick’s skill, more so when Adela complemented him on his handiwork and said “I see you haven’t lost your touch, Patrick, I’m sure that Jerome here is a happy recipient of your attention, aren’t you Jerome?” As much as Susanne could see that Jerome was happy with it, what he wasn’t 100% happy with was the manners that were expected from him to reply, “Yes, Mistress Adela.” Patrick’s small grin of amusement showed that he knew full well what Jerome thought of having to pronounce those words.
Although Susanne expected the night to be full of innuendos and conversations that would either exclude her as the only non participant or make her feel like an intruder, in much the same way as at any gathering, talk eventually turned to other things and the three men graduated slightly to one side and she and Adela raised their eyes at each other as they heard the talk turn to football. Sean, who was still kneeling at Adela’s feet had a tendency to lean his body towards the group of men to perhaps be included in the conversation in a listening capacity if not vocally, until Adela placed a hand on his shoulder with the word ‘Stay’, at which he sighed with apparent delight and forgot all about the subject of football. It was soon clear that Adela had no real problem with the men leaking away from the group as she turned to Susanne and stated “So. And now we talk.”
The 45 minutes that followed had been an eye opener for Susanne. Their short conversations by telephone prior to that night had only allowed for the basic exchange of information. What did they want? Had they any experience? Who wanted to do what? Were they sure they wanted to start with a cane? Adela had no business trying to dissuade someone from trying something if they insisted that was what they were after, they were grown adults after all, and she hadn’t done so other than to give some basic warnings and to try and make sure that it was done with the most responsible person she could find, once she grasped the idea that Susanne wouldn’t be involved. But now she wanted to delve deeper because it was soon apparent by her questions that she knew that Susanne wasn’t happy and was struggling with something, something important.
Within the first 10 minutes, she had got from Susanne the whole story. The attempted spanking over the knee. Of Susanne’s incapacity to carry it through. Her inability to accept having her husband submit to her in that way even though he clearly wanted to. How she felt that she had let Marcus down. Her conversation with Jerome outside the room and what he had given her to think about. Susanne thanked the heavens that the club was fairly dark as she knew she was bright red at the end of her speech and had never felt more self-conscious in her life. For some reason though, her embarrassment hadn’t stopped her from telling all; Adela was very easy to talk to. Either that or she was very adept at getting the information she wanted.
Adela listened carefully and thoughtfully and when Susanne had finished her tale, she rose from her stool and beckoned with a finger for Susanne to follow. Adela slowly walked her round the club pointing out different couples and explaining what they were doing, the differences between the positions used and the possible mind sets that they bring about. She explained the importance of stance, tone and words and a short version of the difference between punishment and play and how some people used fake punishment to allow play. She pointed out the various implements available and how to use them and showed her by example what she meant with the willing aid of Sean who had followed behind without a word. Gradually Susanne ventured a question or two to which Adela nodded with satisfaction and answered as best she could and with what she thought was the right amount of information to not frighten Susanne too much.
By the time they made it back to their original position at the bar, with a quick detour included, Susanne was surprisingly much calmer and Patrick was making noises about leaving. Susanne noticed that Adela had a quiet word with him, which resulted in Patrick hooking his arm around Jerome’s shoulder and smiling at him with pride. Jerome’s reaction to that was rather strange. Instead of just smiling back, he blushed prettily and - there was no other word for it - melted against Patrick’s chest. Obviously there was some private understanding at work.
Not long after Patrick and Jerome left, Susanne asked Marcus if he was OK with the idea of leaving as well. It had been a long day for both of them and she at least, was feeling the drain of all the emotions they had been through. Although Marcus would have loved to stay a while longer, he knew it was from the adrenaline and that he couldn’t stay forever in the atmosphere the club exuded – at some point he had to return to the real world. He thanked Adela for all her help, saying it was a blessing that they had fallen into her hands. She replied teasingly, “You might not feel that my hands would be a blessing if you knew what they were capable of doing to you and your bottom.” Susanne laughed out loud at the look of astonishment on Marcus’s face and was amazed at herself for doing so. She was quick to note as well that Adela’s words caused a shiver to run through her husband.
After saying her goodbye’s to Adela, who reminded them that their temporary membership would entitle them to notification of up-coming events for the following 3 months should they wish to come again, she gave a smile and nod towards Sean, received a quick wink back, gathered up her husband and ushered him out to collect their coats and make their way to the car.
“Do you want to drive?” enquired Susanne as they approached and Marcus made his customary way towards the driver’s door. He hesitated and thought about it for a second.
“Um. No. Would you mind driving? It might be better if I can just sit quietly in the car for a bit without not having to move too much.”
“Okay, that’s no problem. We should have brought a cushion for you to sit on,” commented Susanne jokingly.
“Yes, I suppose so. Didn’t think of that.”
“But then you wouldn’t get the benefit of it properly so just as well we don’t have one. And you’ll be sleeping on your stomach tonight as well so you won’t appreciate the lovely soft beds in the hotel.” With that Susanne slipped quickly into the driver’s seat and left Marcus outside shaking his head but laughing out loud at her teasing manner.
The drive back to the hotel had all the signs of being a happy one. By this time they were both in a mad mood, or they were giving the impression of it so as not to have to talk seriously about the night. Not to have to ask if it was enough, did he want more, had she hated it, did they think it would affect them negatively? They both knew that they would have to talk about it properly but that would come later, when the effect of the endorphins had worn off and things were closer to normal. That didn’t mean that they couldn’t enjoy the moment for what it was. There had been a cloud hanging over them both for such a long time that irrespective of whether or not the night would prove to have been a success, it felt good to them that it was over and done with. That they had managed, between the two of them, to get this far. What came next was for the future and the future began tomorrow, not tonight.
On reaching the hotel they entered their room and turned to look at each other.
“Um … I’ll think I’ll have a shower, if that’s OK with you? Or do you want to go first?” asked Marcus.
“No, fine. You go ahead. I’ll just …. organise things here a little bit first,” said Susanne indicating the room and the bags that had their contents spilling from them.
Marcus shut the bathroom door behind him and turned the taps of the shower on to give the impression that he was about to jump in. Almost as frantically as he had once, long ago, pulled his trousers and pants down to present his bottom to his wife, he now did so to present it to the mirror. He had keenly felt each stripe as it landed. He had felt the effect of them throughout the remainder of the night when he moved and his clothes rubbed against his tender skin. He had got a glance at the lines straight after the caning when Adela had approached and turned his back to the large mirror in the corner of the room at the club and told him to ‘look’ with a smile of approval, sure he would like what he saw. His hand had skimmed over the lines as if to check that they were really there, that the punished bottom in the mirror wasn’t a fantasy or a figment of his imagination. He had been mesmerised by the sight and couldn’t tear his eyes away from the sight of those lines marking his skin as clearly as a brand would have marked the skin of an animal or a slave in olden days. He thought that he might very well be a slave now; a willing and voluntary slave to the sensation of corporal punishment. He had smiled to himself at the silliness of the thought that it wasn’t fair that his bottom was behind him, it made looking at his welts all the more awkward and seemingly furtive. He wanted them on show; he wanted to be able to see them whenever he wished without the necessary contortions – he was proud of them; his fingers going as if of their own accord to trace the fierce lines that bisected his flesh, to pay homage and respect to the pain that they represented, to caress in reverence their significance. They were his trophies and he knew he needed to enjoy them all he could before they faded, probably never to reappear.
At the same time and completely irrationally, he was pleased there were where they were, private, hidden, secretly tucked away where only he knew they existed. He was sure that they wouldn’t fade that fast and the idea pleased him that he could go to work on Monday or play a game of darts with his friends in the pub during the week and still enjoy them. That people could look at him and see the same old Marcus that they had seen the week before but who would never really be the same again. There was almost an impatience in him to meet someone and talk to them about mundane everyday things while his bottom was still throbbing and carrying the marks that Patrick had so skilfully lain upon him, and for him to hug that secret to himself and delight in the thrill of recollection at how he came by them.
At the moment, he almost wished that Susanne hadn’t come with him as he was sure that he could have spent the night in the bathroom gazing in the mirror with a contented smile on his face. However, he understood that without Susanne on board he would never have made it this far. He wouldn’t have gone behind her back as his fidelity to her was more important than a spanking so he had much to thank her for even though he knew she hadn’t felt very comfortable at the club at all. She had seemed nervous when he had left the room and went straight to her for a hug. They had spent a minute or two in quiet embrace while they reconnected and reassured each other wordlessly that everything was OK. Susanne had searched his eyes as though seeking a difference in him but could only see that he was happy. The onset of tears that she saw there were more to do, so she thought, with emotion rather than any damage that had been done to his backside and she knew she was right when once more he whispered his thanks in her ear. It was a very different ‘thanks’ from the one he had given to Patrick inside the room. That was done with a hesitant handshake and a slightly embarrassed smile on his behalf but Patrick had smiled honestly in response and not only shook his hand but squeezed his shoulder firmly and told him that he had taken it well; a compliment that had boosted his feelings of well being even more so. He had also shaken Jerome’s hand and given him his thanks – he was under no misapprehension that it had cost that young man something to agree to what had gone on as well. It seemed that Patrick was as lucky in his choice of partner as Marcus thought himself to be. No, on reflection he was glad that Susanne was here, struggling through her reticence but showing her support. Just for the moment though, just for a short time, the time of an average shower even, he wanted to be alone. To be allowed to take on board all that had happened. He knew that Susanne was going to see his marks, that she would want to see them if only to calm her own fears but for now, he wanted to be alone with his joy and to be able to give in to the bubble of delight inside him that had done its best to command him since the moment that he had pulled his clothes back into place and he had felt the rasp of material against his sensitised skin.
He was aware as he let his fingers trace the lines that he’d never really paid much attention to his own bottom – well, not many people do. It’s there, it always had been there and always would be, but its purpose wasn’t of major importance in the everyday scheme of things so it wasn’t something that he thought of often, if ever. Sure, when his fantasy had taken a stronger hold over him he had thought about it but in the abstract. Now he was seeing his bottom as though for the first time. He allowed his hand to move lower and cup his cheek, gently weighing the flesh as though it was a piece of choice fruit he was considering buying, wondering how his buttocks looked when he had been bent over tightly. Somehow he hadn’t even thought of that when he was being caned, it hadn’t even occurred to him that he was bent over, naked from the waist down in front of a gay man - if you didn’t include his pants and trousers pooled around his ankles. He hadn’t really thought either about what had been on show to Patrick. His bum, yes, obviously that. But he hadn’t considered that the position he had taken must have opened himself up to show more than he had been aware of. Having never seen a man in his life in that position – not without clothes on anyway; his mates at the gym doing exercises didn’t count as they were dressed – he couldn’t help but wonder just how much Patrick had been privy to. Well, it was irrelevant now, it was over and done with and at no time had he got the impression from Patrick that he was there just to cop an eyeful. He hadn’t touched him at all, hadn’t pushed him further down or instructed him to alter his stance in any way that would have changed the position that Adela had set him in at the beginning of the session. This was something he was only aware of now, when his mind was slowly beginning to surface and take charge again – before he had been driven by his hormones and his greed to get what he wanted and that had been enough to force his mind into some sort of stand-by mode with just enough power getting through to allow basic activity and function. He doubted very much at the time that he would have been capable of calling a halt even had he thought that Patrick was seeing what lay between his crack and was getting off on it. And if he had… well, that was his payment. All his energy and concentration had been geared towards what was going to happen to him and whether he could handle it. Now that he knew he could - although a couple of the strokes had made his eyes water and one in particular had brought forth a sob – the marks he wore directed his attention to his bottom. Almost shamefully but irresistibly drawn to the idea, he bent over slightly and studied his bottom in the mirror. He saw his cheeks tauten and felt the pull of the welted skin as it stretched to accommodate the new position. Once again he ghosted his hand across the skin, not merely touching it, but feeling it, examining it, exploring the contours and the difference in texture between the blemished and the pure. Seeing the movement of underlying muscle as he flexed his legs and stood with his legs straighter to recreate the position he had held earlier on. He hadn’t realised just how sensitive the skin on his bottom was although maybe that was only due to the recent caning and where it had taken his mind. It seemed as though his backside was a new part of him, something that he had been recently introduced to and he was enchanted to make its acquaintance.
With a grinning smile that threatened to split his face in two and a tentative pat to his own bottom, Marcus couldn’t resist the giggle that rose from him as he stepped into the shower at last where he proved to himself that a freshly caned bottom felt just as nice through a sponge and shower gel.
On the other side of the door, in the bedroom, Susanne made a quick call to their neighbour who had agreed to check their house while they were away and had sat listening with one ear to her complaints about her son being grounded for misbehaviour - although thankfully she didn’t go into all the details just that Jonathon had got into trouble with some friends and was now paying the consequences of it which he didn’t at all like - and saying ‘Mmm’ at appropriate moments while her mind replayed the evening back to herself and allowed her to have a good think. So much had happened tonight.
Marcus had clearly been enthralled with his caning and would no doubt love to repeat the experience. His honesty would prevent him from doing so though – he’d accepted ‘just once’ and she was sure he would stick to that. It was up to her to change that condition, not him. Susanne now had to take the final decision on whether she could do that or not. Marcus’s state of mind and current happiness would influence her too much: that was important to her of course but she needed to think by herself for a while. So although she really did want to see the results of the evening, she was glad that he had shot off to the shower so quickly, it gave her time to herself.
She expected herself to be shocked by the lines she imagined to be on his bottom but she’d now seen others in the club that wore them. Yes, lines on others would not be the same as lines on her husband but she thought that if she could make her up her mind before she saw them, then she would view them differently. She expected herself to be horrified, to see them as brutal and intrusive and something she had no part of but she thought that if she decided that he could experience this again, that decision would help her see the marks in a different light. See them either as a once only necessary evil to please her husband or as a natural consequence to what he was now part of.
With her phone call over, she took the time to peruse the room, her eyes coming to rest on the small weekend bags that they had brought with them, now more than half empty of the contents they had removed upon arrival: toiletries, the change of clothes they had used at the club tonight, the clothes they would wear tomorrow to return home. Her day bag sat on top of the holdall, along with the smallish bag she had taken with her tonight and a collection of carrier bags. Why was it that even on a short journey, every stop at a petrol station or for a cup of coffee brought about it a purchase of some sort? A magazine, a bottle of water for the car, an out of date CD that used to be a favourite of a family member and was therefore bought in their honour. There was a tendency to buy something, anything, as though the bags in the boot of the car put them in a holiday mood or tricked them into thinking that their journey was a long one and they needed supplies. It was, mostly, junk that would need to be incorporated into their bags or thrown away. Taking a deep breath, her decision made, Susanne rose from the bed to organise their new purchases for the journey home and to bring some semblance of tidiness to the room.
So caught up was he in the good feelings that were coursing through him that Marcus was unaware that Susanne had entered the bathroom behind him and was watching him as his hands roamed from his backside to his front as the oft secondary benefits of a caning made themselves known.
His eyes sprung open startled when he registered her delicate cough of self announcement and he froze in motion as he realised that she was aware of what he was doing.
“Would you like me to join you?” she asked somewhat nervously but determined to reclaim her man.
Marcus’s eyes flickered just as apprehensively as he was unsure of her reaction although the way that she hardly waited for his answer and slowly began to undress in front of him, never once taking her eyes from his and letting her clothes fall to the ground in a discarded heap with a nonchalance, surprised him. He had never seen her stand with such pride and determination while completely naked and his eyes glittered with his answer as he made room for her to join him. As he went to take her in his arms she pushed his arms away and down to the side whilst relieving him of the foam dripping sponge and with one raised eyebrow, a smile and the words ‘I want to see’, defied him to move from the position she had placed him in.
The next 10 minutes were spent by her covering his body from head to foot in slow rhythmic movements that mesmerised him and made him aware of every inch of his body in a way that he had never known before. Stepping from the shower Susanne took one of the large hotel towels from the heated radiator and gently dried Marcus’s body, not allowing him to participate in any way other than to turn at her instruction or move his arms and legs as indicated. In some sense it should have felt that he had the upper hand, that he was being worshipped and his body being paid its due of service but somehow Susanne managed to give off an air of being in control of the whole procedure. She wasn’t serving him, she was surveying and inspecting what belonged to her. As though she was making sure the goods returned to her had come back in the same condition they had been sent out with, stripe marks withstanding.
She spent a fair amount of time running her fingers over those cane lines, taking note of each shudder that ran through Marcus’s body as she did so. How the muscles in his body flexed and quivered under the skin as she touched him. How his breathing became ragged and he trembled at her touch. He couldn’t control it; his body reacted of its own accord, completely independent of his thoughts and instructions. This wasn’t his brain sending signals to his body to move and obey; it was from a deeper level. Somewhere unfathomable inside him, the core of his personality perhaps, that had complete command over him, over and above his conscious thought. The insight to this knowledge was a revelation to Susanne.
Once Marcus was completely dry Susanne dropped the towel to one side and pulled another one from the heated radiator. She stood tall and erect as she handed it to Marcus in invitation for him to provide the same service. Although the room was warm from the radiators and the stream from the shower, the drying water on her body had created a chill. Her nipples were stiff and emotion and lust were causing goosebumps to appear. Marcus took the towel with understanding and using the far extremes of it doubled over to form pads, dried his wife with a combination of soft pats and even softer caresses.
His excitement was more than obvious by the time he had finished – his erection could have been used to hang the towel on. Lifting her in his arms he carried her to the bedroom, shutting the door steadily on the bathroom and the prior events of the evening. Thoughts and questions had no place in their world tonight – ‘Now’ was to do with them as a couple and the only way his caning was allowed entry to the moment was as a tool that increased his passion.
Marcus winced in his sleep as he turned over in bed to escape the light that was bleeding through the window blinds of the hotel. His subconscious had not warned him to make the move face down and he had rolled, face up, to his other side. The pain in his bum had worn off somewhat during the night but there was still enough left to cause a reaction as his skin was pressed into the mattress on turning. The reawakened pain brought him a level nearer to consciousness as the throb insisted on being acknowledged. Every other minute brought about a new fidget as he tried to make himself comfortable and bury himself in sleep once more. He instinctively burrowed his face in the pillow in an effort to hide from the day but it was useless - its fingers had a grip on him and were reluctant to let go of their captive.
Another force soon began to take hold of him and make its presence known; that of needing to get to the bathroom as quick as possible. Marcus sighed in resignation as he realised that the efforts to pull him from sleep were not going to give up their battle until he submitted. He pushed back the covers and stumbled to the bathroom, smiling slightly at the state it had been left in the night before. The floor was covered in screwed up towels along with discarded clothes. Marcus placed one hand against the wall behind the toilet to support his sleepy body as he relieved himself and closed his eyes in bliss at the sensation of his bladder emptying. “Ahhh … sometimes a piss is better than sex,” he muttered dozily to himself. An involuntary shiver ran through him as his body took on board the departure of the warm fluid.
His own comment about sex brought his mind sharply back to the night before and the evening that had led up to it. A smile crept across his face and he sighed deeply at how right everything felt – except his arse and even that couldn’t be described as ‘wrong’. After flushing, he quickly washed his hands and turned to look at his bum. His eyebrows rose in renewed respect and awe for the lines that were still clearly visible. They seemed harsher now than they had been last night. The twin marks of each stroke had hardened into ridges and feint bruising was visible towards the end of each line on his right cheek. They were so perfectly parallel and evenly spaced that they reminded him of a jotting book with double lines designed to help writing skills. A quick feel confirmed that they were still there and that his eyes weren’t deceiving him. Neither were his nerve endings - the throbbing seemed to be getting worse the more awake he became and gently rubbing his backside provided only the most temporary relief.
“Oh well, that’s what I signed up for,” he told his reflection as he moved back to the bedroom to pick a towel from the pile left on the luggage rack. As he bent over to move his holdall out of the way he heard lazy movements from the bed behind him.
“Nice. Pretty,” mumbled Susanne sleepily from deep inside the blankets that were tucked warmly around her. Marcus turned to her to ask what she meant but saw that she was fast asleep again.
After showering and tidying up the leftover mess from the night before, Marcus dressed – carefully - and checked the hotel information sheet as to the opening times of the breakfast room. He was starving and planned to order the largest breakfast they had on offer in order to restock on energy. He gave a brief thought for sitting down to eat but realised that it wasn’t worth the bother of worrying about it. He could hardly stand up to eat in front of the rest of the guests – apart from which he had a long drive home to contend with. He offered a small regret for the passing of the cars of yesteryear when the seats were properly padded and had springs in them to make them more comfortable. He could remember bouncing as a child on the leather seats of his grandfather’s Zephyr 6 which in comparison to the cars of today, was a tank and was built for comfort and durability, not speed. Moulded plastic, polyurethane and polyester were not going to be spanked-bum friendly. A quick glance at the bed showed Susanne making back-in-the-world-of-the-living noises and he slid over to join her and plant a kiss on her nose – at the moment the only part available – whilst giving a fleeting envious look to the soft pillows under her head.
Once Susanne had roused and prepared herself and was checking the drawers and under the bed to make sure nothing had been left behind – 1 sock, a printed sheet of paper with Noctua’s directions on and her phone charger - Marcus stated that he would take the bags down to the car before they went to eat so that they didn’t have to return to the room. Susanne thought that he sounded furtive for some reason but pushed the idea to the back of her mind as she had more important things to dwell on. She needed to talk to Marcus; they needed to discuss the outcome of last night and all that had happened. Marcus appeared to be in a rush to leave the room though so she agreed that he take the bags, told him to leave the carrier bags, that she would sort them out and would meet him in the hotel lobby in 5 minutes.
She arrived at the front lobby just as he was coming back through the large glass doors carrying his coat.
“Why didn’t you put it on or leave it in the car?” she asked him.
“Er … dunno. Forgot,” he mumbled.
She looked at him with puzzlement. “How can you have forgotten if you took it out with you? You looked like you had half the room bundled under it; it couldn’t have been easy to carry along with the bags. Wouldn’t it have been easier just to wear it, especially as you’ve brought it back in now without putting it on as well? Isn’t it cold outside?”
“Yes, it is a bit. I wasn’t thinking. I’m too hungry to think properly. Have you found a table?”
“I’ve asked for a breakfast table for two and also asked for them to prepare the bill as well. It will be ready by the time we’ve finished eating, so I’m just going to pop these” indicating 2 carrier bags “on the back seat and I’ll be right back.” Planting a kiss on his cheek before he could reply, and wrapping her coat snugly round her to combat the wind outside, Susanne shot out the door leaving Marcus to wonder if they were playing a game of tag or hide and seek with each other. His stomach rumbled loudly at that point so he set off to seek his breakfast.
Susanne approached the car and quickly unlocked the doors and also the boot through the radio controlled central locking system on her key. She slipped one of the carrier bags behind the co-drivers seat so she had her magazine and water to hand and the other she went to place in the boot. She was a little surprised, but resigned, to see how Marcus had packed the boot – his general trend of doing things was to whip up everything in armfuls and throw it in the general direction of where he wanted it to go. He had obviously done the same here as the bags and other stuff in the boot were lying haphazardly all over the place with no concern to tidiness. Susanne rearranged things more to her liking and placed everything where she wanted it to be, closed the boot and still wearing her coat, walked back to the hotel.
The breakfast choice was good, above standard in fact, although Susanne was almost goggle-eyed at the amount that Marcus was eating.
“I think you’re supposed to have your last meal before punishment is meted out, Marcus, not afterwards,” she managed to get out at last after watching him mop up the remains of an egg with his third slice of bread.
“M’famished,” he mumbled round his mouthful, denying any food the chance to escape by stuffing the last bit in his mouth to act as a barrier. Susanne could hardly control the urge to laugh at her husband. With his cheeks bulging with food and his constant fidgeting on the chair, he looked like a small schoolboy who was itching to get outside and play but knew he had to finish his dinner first.
“Wha'? Wha' are 'ou laughin’ at?” Marcus demanded as he saw the smirk on her face.
“Nothing, darling. Do you want another cup of tea before you choke on that?” She bit her lip hard to stop the guffaw she so wanted to make and busied herself with pouring more tea. “Drink that up and then we can go home.”
After paying the hotel bill on leaving the dining room, Marcus took Susanne’s hand in his, kissed her full on the lips in front of the envious receptionist and said “Come on then, the cat will be getting grumpy if we stay away any longer,” and led her out the hotel. As they reached the car, he took her coat along with his own and turned away while, unseen, she took a large gulp of air hoping the briskness of it would give her courage.
“I can’t cane you, Marcus. I can’t put you over my knee and spank you either.”
As Susanne began to make these blunt statements in the middle of the car park, he had moved towards the boot to stow the coats away and with his hand on the boot lock, he opened his mouth to say ‘I know’, to explain that he realised that she had gone as far as she could be expected to in allowing him his one experience and that he respected her position, when she cut across his speech and indicated that he open the boot. As he did so he saw that in addition to the things that he had placed there earlier on, there was something else. Placed casually on top of one of the bags, in full view of anyone who happened to walk past and sitting innocently as though of no import, was a small leather paddle, brand new if the stiffness and the shine of the leather was anything to go by. He gazed at it for all of 2 seconds which was enough time for a thousand questions to stampede through his mind and make him slightly dizzy at the implication it might hold, before his puzzled gaze swung back to his wife with a mixture of expectation and trepidation.
“But I think I can bend you over the back of a chair and paddle you. We made a mistake that time, Marcus. Having you over my knee was too much for me, I don’t know exactly why but I just can’t do that. I know lots of people do but it doesn’t work for me. We assumed that I couldn’t do any of it. OK, I assumed that I couldn’t do it but I think the position was the problem. Maybe this won’t work either, but I’m willing to give it another try if you want me to.”
Marcus was astounded at the strength of his wife and her willingness to please him. Could he accept a paddling in place of a caning or a spanking? Damn right he could! That was more than he thought would ever be possible and he felt as though he had just been handed everything anyone would ever want in the world. The promise of a sore bottom and a wife unequal to any other. He hastily threw the coats in the boot and sped round the car to cup his hands to the sides of Susanne’s face.
He studied her face for a fraction of a second but it was long enough for him to take in her nervousness and her determination.
“I love you.”
“I take it that’s a ‘yes’ then?” laughed Susanne as she watched her husband hold back the tears that gleamed in his eyes. Eyes that shone their adoration of her and upheld the rightness of her decision to give it one more try.
“Yes. YES! Of course it’s a yes, and…,” he hesitated slightly and moved to take her hands in his, “Susanne? If it doesn’t work out, if you can’t do it, it doesn’t matter. I love you anyway and always will, but I’d love you even more, if that were possible, just for the fact that you’re willing to compromise and try again. I know it’s something that you don’t enjoy and that makes it all the more precious to me, no matter what the outcome...”
“Well,” admitted Susanne with a slight blush, “I think our problem is that we should have come to the club first before we tried it out on our own at home. At the time it seemed so wrong because I had no idea of what it all meant and those damn sites that you found to look at really put me off to be honest. All the people being punished there were so … odd. It made it really creepy and seedy somehow and I think I couldn’t get that image out of my mind. But coming here, you can see that the people are very normal, just like us in fact. I really liked Patrick, he was a nice man and Jerome was just lovely. He was very supportive when we were waiting for you; we had a good chat actually. And afterwards, watching some of the people play in the main room, well… it just made it all seem very different, kind of normal. And not … um … unpleasant to witness. Quite exciting really. And no one appeared weak or to be victims or … I dunno, sort of perverted, if you know what I mean?”
“Just a little kinky, maybe?” ventured Marcus with a grin.
“Yes, OK, a little kinky, and that can’t hurt anyone, can it?”
“Well, it hurt my arse sure enough,” laughed Marcus.
“Ah, but you deserved that, my darling, I’m not sure of why yet, but I’ll think of something. And I think that you may just deserve to have it smacked again tonight for what is in the boot. It’s naughty to steal pillows from hotel rooms to use as cushions, isn’t it, Marcus?”
Marcus looked at his wife in utter surprise at the tone of voice she had used. Not her normal one, not the soft tenor he was used to but a mixture of false sternness, loftiness and humour. Which was right. Right for him and right for her. Right for them!